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My smile dropped.
He visibly winced at his slip.
I surged to my tippy-toes and kissed him reassuringly. “I always think of you, too.”
His broad chest sagged beneath my palms. “Do you truly?”
“You’re my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night.”
He crushed me to his chest and pressed his forehead to mine.
Zeno Gianni De la Croix’s dynasty was threaded with blood and war, yet Montardor’s king was the only man to ever treat me the way I always wanted and deserved.
Prince Charming did not hold a candle to my ruthless punisher of a husband.
He was the villain in some stories, but he was the perfect soulmate in mine. I spent years imagining, penning, and manifesting him without ever realizing it.
I would rather live in Zeno’s shadows than any other man’s light.
“From the moment I first saw you to the moment where I first touched you, you have never left my thoughts, Darla.” He kissed me hard. “You’re branded in my soul.”
“Oh, Zeno.” My husband, for all his jagged edges, was a romantic at heart.
I want to keep himforever.
Our kiss slowed, but our greedy hands did not, wandering over territories we’d already conquered, tracing our favourite bridges and pathways, going to places where the sun didn’t always shine but the stars always glowed.
The display of emotion was too much for us and I felt the shift as he tried to bring us back to safer terrains with his next murmured words, “I think it’s time to reverse the roles. I’ll be the teacher and you’ll be the student.”
He practically sent me to heaven with his request.
Zeno bent me over the desk and shoved my skirt up, baring me for his perusal. “No panties, Principal Hill?”
“I forgot them.” I winked at him over my shoulder.
He grabbed the wooden ruler sitting on my desk and smacked it once against his palm. I jerked and clutched my pearls, so ready for my punishment. “You know what happens when you break my rules.”
“Yes, Master.”
He caressed the ruler over my ass. “I’m going to spank you for every text message you ignored and you’re going to count with me.”
“Yes.” The first crack against my skin had my veins sizzling with desire and acceptance. I cried out. “One.”
The second crack turned my ass a beautiful red, I could tell, by the way Zeno groaned. “Naughty girls need to be taught a lesson and you, Principal Hill, are the naughtiest of them all.” He leaned down to whisper in my ear, “But I love it.”
I used to believe the worst fate was getting married to Zeno.
Life had a twisted sense of humour because saying ‘I do’ to my husband was the best thing that ever happened to me.
Zeno slowly became my closest confidant. During the day, we texted as much as our busy schedules allowed and at night, he would teach me how to cook his favourite meals with French soap operas running in the background.
“You’re a natural,” he praised when I put sauce all over our homemade gnocchi.
“Yeah?” I nudged him playfully.
He thumbed my cheek. “Oh, yeah. Master chef status, baby.”
Late nights were reserved for rendezvous in my conservatory room. Zeno would lie on the Cleopatra chaise with me sprawled on top of him, and read notes of my upcoming books to help me smooth over any plot holes.
